


Kylie Jenner Lips

by crystalclark94



Category: Shadowhunters (TV)
Genre: And Hilarious, Awkward Conversations, Awkward Flirting, First Meetings, I am Saphael trash, Kind of a crack fic tbh, M/M, Meet-Cute, My version of cute, Raphael is a bartender, Simon does try to pick up a rando, Simon has no game, as always Simon is Raphael's weakness, but do not fear, he loves the nerd, he sucks at his job, he's obsessed, if you don't think so then fight me, it's pretty sad, kylie jenner lip lookalike, seriously all he does it talk to simon, simon has a lip fetish
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-07
Updated: 2016-06-07
Packaged: 2018-07-12 21:00:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,608
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7122400
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/crystalclark94/pseuds/crystalclark94
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Do you work at Starbucks?” Blondie’s open and inviting look that had been on his face just seconds before started to twist, realization coming to his features and a mildly offended look taking it’s place. </p><p>He starts panicking. No no no! IT was cute, he just had to show Blondie that. “Because I like you a latte.” He grinned sheepishly. “Get it? A latte- a lot”. Blondie just stood there as if he couldn’t believe this situation that he had currently found himself in.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Kylie Jenner Lips

**Author's Note:**

> So, honestly I was listening to this song (Uber Everywhere by Madeintyo) and there's this line "Shawty's bad as hell yeah, with them Kylie Jenner Lips". While I was a just a teeny tiny bit intoxicated, and all I could think about was how Raphael is a bad bitch with Kylie Jenner lips. And this is what happened. 
> 
> Just FYI: Raphael is a horrible bartender, he literally just pays attention to Simon, and it's as if no one else exists (it was a means to an end). 
> 
> I am new to the fanfic writing world, so please be kind. Any problems you have, as long as they're valid (like editing) please please tell me. Also, if you enjoyed it please let me know! I enjoyed writing it. 
> 
> One more point, is that I am trying to write more dialogue (this is difficult for me) so if it feels weird, or it's not as smooth as it could be. Please let me know. :)

Simon looks around him, dazed and a little bit taken aback. He’s just arrived at his town’s equivalent to gay Mecca, that consists of one sprawling city block of every type of bar you can imagine, especially gay bars, and he’s kind of freaking out about it a little bit. There are bright and colorful lights all around, some flashing and strobing. The streets are packed with a variety of people, hanging out with friends, drinking, laughing, and overall seeming to have a great ol’ time. Some look like your average joes, some are doing their best to wear as little clothing as possible, some are wearing an alarming amount of leather, and he thinks that he spies a young twinky looking guy covered in glitter and wearing a pair of fairy wings (the kind that come in those cheap little girl halloween costumes). 

Simon looks down at himself, at his normal geeky star wars t shirt, and ratty-ish jeans combo, and thinks that maybe he is too boring for this. Maybe he should just go home and continue with his monotonous, uneventful life. Go back and foolishly hope that his best friend Clary actually harbors secret feelings of passionate love and lust for him, like he does for her. He scoffs. As if she’s ever even looked at him twice. That’s what you get when you’ve been friends with someone since childhood. He might as well have been born her brother for all the non existent sexual curiosity she has for him.

Enough pussy footing around, time to nut up or shut up. So Simon takes in his options. Trying to decide between two of the tamest looking gay bars that he sees; The Male Box or The White Swallow. Now, despite his obvious amusement at the tacky and completely perfect names these bars had, he had no idea which one to go into. Both of them didn’t look to be too far out there into unknown territory with nice brick facing and hypnotizing glowy neon washing the surrounding area in a mysterious and very inviting glow. 

He gets an idea, and digs around his jeans pocket for a coin. It takes him a second, but soon he comes away with a nice and shiny quarter. He decides that heads will be for The Male Box and tails will be for The White Swallow. 

He tosses it up into the air and watches it twirl and twirl, glinting off of the light after each rapid rotation. When it comes back down he catches it with a flourish and smacks it down onto the back of his left hand. He uncovers the coin and sees that it has landed on tails. So The White Swallow it is. 

It honestly looks like a nice place. The people standing in line waiting to get in seem pretty nice as well, not way out there or over the top flamboyant (not that there’s anything wrong with that. Simon has no room to be judgemental) that still tends to make Simon nervous. 

He’s determined though, no matter what, he’s going to go in there, and forget all about Clary. It’s about time, time to get over the mooning and unrequited epic love. He’s always going to care for her, but he needs to care for her in the same capacity that she cares for him; bestfriend. He figures the best way to do that? Find someone who makes him feel enough to forget all about her, or find someone to fuck senseless until he forgets all about her. Either will do at this point. 

So he gets in line, and gets his fake id ready (he fully intends to drink a fuck ton, let the bad life choices commence)! He reaches the bouncer manning the door in a reasonable amount of time, and quickly hands him the ID. He gets a brief double take (ok, so it may not be the most believable fake ID ever, but Simon also knows that as long as he has at least something, no one really cares all that much), but ultimately the dude lets him in with only a long suffered sigh in objection. 

Despite it’s lasciviously dirty dirty namesake, the inside of the bar wasn’t really at all what Simon had expected. It was nice and quaint with lots of really nice wood work (wall panels and floors). The walls were covered with pictures of what he assumed was patrons, and posters of old glam movies. It was a very laid back atmosphere. The bar was definitely the main focal point of the place, with it being big, long, and looming, with an intimidating shelf of liquor behind it. There were stools at the bar, a couple of tables, and some booths to sit at, as well as an area designated for dancing. Simon was actually really feeling the joint. 

It wasn’t really all that crowded (it also wasn’t that late yet, so there was still time for that to change). There were some good looking candidates for Simon to try and woo though, so his spirits were lifted exponentially. He goes over to the bar and orders a rum and coke and eyes up some blonde twinky looking dude that just might go for him. He thinks about his approach. Should he be aggressive? Sweet? Dorky? God knows he can’t be suave or seductive. Maybe he should just be straight forward. Wasn’t that the best with guys? No mixed signals, just let him know that Simon wants to bang. 

He decides, after sitting there awkwardly gulping down his drink, to just be frank with the guy. I mean sex is fun, and Simon’s not completely horrible looking, so maybe he’ll be down. 

Simon makes his way over, feeling a little bit of warmth swirling in his belly, even though he only had one drink. He takes to bar stool beside him and gives him his best, and most charming smile. 

“Do you work at Starbucks?” Blondie’s open and inviting look that had been on his face just seconds before started to twist, realization coming to his features and a mildly offended look taking it’s place. 

He starts panicking. No no no! IT was cute, he just had to show Blondie that. “Because I like you a latte.” He grinned sheepishly. “Get it? A latte- a lot”. Blondie just stood there as if he couldn’t believe this situation that he had currently found himself in. 

Simon, despite the weak outlook, decides to soldier on, and try a different approach. “Sorry, ah just sorry. I swear I’m not as awkward as I seem. It’s just I saw you from across the bar, and you’re super fucking cute, and I just wanted to see if I have any chance of doing anything at all with you? Tonight? Preferably together?” 

Blondie closes his eye as if he’s in pain, and lets out a long, drawn out sigh. He steals himself, looks Simon dead in the eyes, and says; “No.” 

Simon can feel the flush creeping up his neck and onto his face to show his embarassment to the world. “Are you sure, bec-”

“No.” With that last, and final answer, Blondie moves himself way out of Simon’s general vicinity, all the way over the complete other side of the building. 

Simon tries his best to shake it off and not let it get to him. He decides to order another drink (because alcohol can only improve his situation), and watches the bartender skillfully put it together, something neon blue and apparently with a hundred different liquors in it, along with floating pieces of colorful fruit, and Simon forgot what it was called as soon as he ordered it. He was just desperate to get any alcohol into his system in an attempt to make himself feel better. 

He stares down into his drink, half way slurped down already, angsting away. This was his first time out at a bar trying to pick up someone, and while he knows people get rejected all the time, that you’re supposed to pick yourself up and try again, he can’t quite bring himself to. 

He hears someone very loudly, and very obnoxiously clearing their throat in his general vicinity. He glances around, to see if maybe he’s in anybody’s way (a little confused as well, the bar isn’t all that crowded) to see no one paying him any mind. He straightens up and catches the bartender’s eyes, that have apparently been watching him, along with a vague look of annoyance and sassy quirked eyebrows. He hadn't really paid him any attention since he’s been here, and just now is able to take in his features. He’s very attractive, but not in an effortless way, Simon can tell that he takes great care with his appearance. He has artfully styled hair and caramel skin (not tanned, some sort of ethnic background then). Simon takes in his eyes (a lovely warm shade of brown), his strong nose, sharp jawline, and finally, finally he takes in his lush mouth. Simon is kind of dazed, looking at that mouth. It is nothing but pure fucking sin. Thick dark crimson lips (is he wearing lipstick? Holy shit I think he’s wearing lipstick) that are nothing short of perfection. 

With the lipstick his lips seem vaguely familiar. He tries to think harder. Where has he seen lips like that before? It hits him suddenly. Kylie Jenner! With that lip liner stuff of hers. Damn, is it bad that kind of turns Simon on a little bit? The bartender is a stimulating and confusing mixture of masculine and feminine, and it’s hitting all of Simon’s buttons. 

He hears the bartender clear his throat again, and looks up back into his eyes to see that his annoyance has increased significantly.

Simon stares at him stupidly. “Huh?” 

The bartender looks a little bit miffed, but overcomes this with an air of superiority.  
“If you’re going to mope and be all angsty, can you do it somewhere else? It’s bad for business, particularly my business.” He leans closer to Simon, giving of some seriously danger! Intense don’t fuck with my vibes. “My checking account thrives on lust and bad sexual decisions, not nerdy white boys that are sad they don’t have game, and haven’t tipped since they’ve entered the place, so, Move. Away. From. The. Bar.”

The guy is all up in Simon’s personal space, staring him down with those judgey eyebrows of his. Simon doesn’t know what to do, He’s definitely not the fighting type. Have you seen him? He’s nothing but sass and multiple levels of insecurity. He knows he can’t take this guy if it comes to blows, the guy is really fit, like unbelievably fit (not in a bodybuilder type of way, more lean and short, but definitely a little bit stocky). But he’s never been exceptionally good at keeping his mouth shut. One very important part of Simon’s personality is that he has no filter. None, nada, whatsoever. So whatever idiotic and inane thing that floats through his stream of consciousness, generally, will find it’s way coming out of Simon’s mouth. 

Simon is feeling a little battle scarred and maybe even a little irritated from his previous encounter with blondie. So he can’t help it when the first thing that comes out of his mouth is:

“Did it hurt?” He says, staring right into the face of imminent death. 

The bartender looks at him as if he’s lost his mind.  
“What?” 

He’s becoming angrier, Simon can tell, but he can’t honestly find it in himself to care, the guy’s been nothing but an ass to him. So Simon honestly doesn’t give a fuck at this point. He’s got nothing to lose (except maybe a few teeth if this gets worse than he expects.) He’s feeling brave, and a little bit invincible, he can tell that whatever was in those drinks is beginning to really take hold and distort his world view. Huh, guess he’s more of a light weight than he had previously thought. 

“When you broke through the earth’s crust ascending from hell.” He leans a little bit forward, closing the space between them until he can feel the others breath on his lips. He licks his own lips slowly. “Was it very painful?” He whispers. There’s a long tense silence between them, until Simon throws his head back and lets out a gale of laughter. He’s laughing so hard that he can’t catch his breath. He points spastically at bartender. “Your face!” He can’t say more, because the giggles start again, and he pounds his fist along like he just can’t believe how funny it is. 

Finally, after he gets the laughs out of his system, he looks up at the bartender. Who is staring at him wide eyed with his mouth hanging open, obviously in awe at the magnificence that is Simon. 

Simon starts to feel a little guilty. The bartender seems frozen, He didn’t mean to break the damn guy. “Listen, my bad. You were just being kind of dickish to me and I have no filter, and that’s my version of self defense?” His voice lilts at the end in question, as if he himself doesn’t even know. The bartender makes no sudden movements, but his eyebrows do scrunch up in a confused manner and he looks at Simon like he’s an enigma. Simon even thinks that he sees maybe the hint of a smile stretch those wonderful lips of his. 

“Okay, I maybe deserved that.” The bartender finally speaks. 

What the guy said about him being an angsty white boy with no game and lack of tipping (Simon is not a bad person, he just maybe was too caught up in his own heartache to notice he didn’t tip. Still that is a kind of asshole thing to not do) kind of messes with him a little though. He does still feel a little bit of that sting. 

“If I tip can I stay here? I don’t want to go find a table to sit at by myself and look pathetic, at least if I’m sitting at the bar I don’t looks like such a failure. I’m having a hard time coming to terms with the fact that I may die an old cat man-lady, virginal and alone, and I just really want to not be stuck by myself in some corner watching everyone else have a good time.”

He knows that he sounds pathetic and like he’s looking for a bone to be thrown, but he can’t help it, and at least he can say he tried. If all else fails he can just go home and go back to his equally awful and miserable life as Clary’s lapdog.  
The bartender just looks at him for a long minute, then sighs.  
“Okay. You can stay, but if you stay, you have to try again, so the blonde guy didn’t work out - yeah, I saw and heard that fail- so try again. People get rejected all the time, don’t take it to heart. Just because you weren’t his type, doesn’t mean you’re not someone else's. Also, you have to buy another drink, and tip.” 

Simon readily agrees, gets a refill (tips!) and scans the room one more time in hopes of triumph. While his eyes roam the place, he can’t help himself but to sneak looks back at the bartender, especially that mouth. Simon’s never been more attracted to a mouth in his entire life, even Clary’s (though hers is really nice with that delicate little cupid’s bow). He honest to gods thinks he might have a fucking fetish for it. Just imagining the pleasure that mouth could bring is making warmth pool low in his belly.

He realizes suddenly that he doesn’t even know the guy's name, and here he is, sitting here, doing nothing but objectifying him. The least he can do is ask. He waves him over again awkwardly (indicated by the eyeroll he receives in reply). 

“Sorry to interrupt, but I just realized that I haven’t even asked your name. I swear I’m not this rude all the time.” He gives a little self depreciating laugh. He extends his hand in invitation for a handshake. “I’m Simon by the way.”

Bartender gives him that little not quite smirk - but not quite a smile and grasps his hand and gives a firm, albeit a little bit on the painful side shake. “Raphael.”

It’s a name that suits him. 

“So, Raphael. As you have born witness to on this night, I have absolutely zero game, and probably have a pretty abysmal chance of ever getting laid. You seem like a guy the fellas, or ladies, or both, whatever your thing is, are into. Got any advice for this young padawan?” 

Raphael looks a bit bewildered, but shakes it off quickly. He gives Simon a slow once over, clearly sizing him up. “Well, a lot of people like the geek thing right now, so that’s not really a problem. From what I’ve seen, your main problem is that you are not self assured. You have to have confidence. You have to go up to someone with the utmost certainty in your head that you’re irresistible.” He leaned in a little closer, as if he was imparting top secret wisdom onto Simon. “Gay men are like sharks, We can smell fear a mile away, any sign of weakness, we see it.” 

Simon nodded.  
“Yeah, yeah. I can totally see that.” He gave a sorrowful sigh. “My issue with that is I can’t just all of a sudden act like I’m hot shit. I can’t just morph into this super confident or suave being of super sexiness. I think I may be a lost cause.” Just as he suspected. He had no luck with the ladies, looks like he has no luck with the fellas as well. Might as well just accept it. 

Simon was on the verge of thanking Raphael for the dose of truth tea and getting on with his chaste life, when Raphael put his hand on his shoulder and shook him slightly. “Hey, don’t beat yourself up. It just takes some practice. Why don’t you practice on me?” 

Simon does a double take. He points to himself, then Raphael, as he says “Me, practice on you?” It’s a pretty accurate ‘me Tarzan you Jane’ impersonation. 

Raphael gives him a reassuring nod. “Give me the best you’ve got.”

Despite the fact that taken out of context, Simon can vividly imagine giving Raphael the best he’s got (wink wink nudge nudge). He gets into position for battle. He sits up straight, pulls back his shoulders, and gives Raphael is best come hither look. He leans in, and before he can stop it coming out of his mouth;

“Ayyy, what that mouth do?”

He jerks back, and slams his hands over his mouth. He gives Raphael a terrified look, because he knows, he knows he just ruined it and made him all shades of pissed off. He decides to try and defend himself. “I am such a fucking lightweight and can’t hold my alcohol. I have recurring word vomit. God, I’m sorry. That was so offensive and I swear I don’t view you as just a pretty mouth. Oh god, oh god”. He’s shocked out of his litany by a deep, well bodied laugh. That is currently coming out of said pretty mouth… 

Raphael is laughing, and smiling at him. “Eres muy linda.” 

Simon allows himself to momentarily relax, he’s still partially convinced that Raphael is going to leap over this table and throttle him at any moment. 

He grins a little sheepishly, “Sorry.”

Raphael brushes it off. “You know what. I think that you should give up on hooking up. You seem more the relationship kinda guy rather than the one nighter type.” He lounges against the bar, leaning in and invading Simon’s personal space. “My shift is about to end, and I’m not inviting you back to my place or anything like that, yet. I’m going to go home and crash, because frankly, I am exhausted. But, if you’re interested, I would like for you to take me out sometime.” 

Simon gapes at him like a fish out of water. Did Raphael, hot and sexy Raphael with the amazing eyebrows and Kylie Jenner lips just ask him out? 

Raphael seems to take pity on him. “Do you want to take me out? You can nod.” He chuckles. 

Simon nods enthusiastically. 

Raphael grabs a pen from under the counter, writes something on a napkin, and hands it over. Simon looks down, it’s his number, complete with a little heart beside it. His insides may just melt a little bit. He looks back up at Raphael, who has gotten even closer, and smiles. He can feel Raphael’s breath on his lips, can feel the heat radiating from his body, and he can feel this longing ache building up. He decides to be brave, and closes the last little bit of space between them with a soft kiss. It’s pretty chaste, despite how dirty Simon wants to make it, but he pulls back. 

Raphael’s answering grin is blinding. He kisses Simon again, soft kisses that trail from his lips, across his jaw, all the way up to his ear. Simon’s pulse is pounding loud in his head. He thinks his heart might literally beat out of his chest as Raphael says, “If you’re a really good boy and impress me, you just might get to see what this mouth can do.”

**Author's Note:**

> This is rated T, but I plan on writing another part that is going to be super explicit and goes into detail about what Raphael's mouth can really do. So check back soon!
> 
> Ayyyyy ;)


End file.
